I made a list almost a decade ago. And now I am going to attend to that list, one item at a time, until I conquer it and all of its implications on my life and the surrounding world as I perceive it...unless I grow bored of it before then; in which case, it will be just another crumpled idea left to litter the antigravity of cyberspace.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

"Ingredient" (Lucky Number) 13 - RAIN

It is actually incredibly appropriate that "rain" should show itself as the 13th "ingredient" on The List, because what I am getting ready to share with the world (well, like .0000000000000001 % of the world, anyway) could certainly be considered "pagan" in nature, and by order. "By order?" you ask. "Whose order?" To which I respond: "The very same 'sanctimonious order' that took the number 13 and cast upon it evil occult-like connotations; the very same 'order' that depleted Mary Magdalene's existence and purpose to that of a harlot and then - centuries later - recanted the bogus claim, because it could no longer be upheld under the valid weight of ancient documentation presented by modern-day historians and archaeologists the world over (and no, I am not referring to the damn "Davinci Code" and other propaganda meant to capitalize on The Lady's revived Divinity; though I will give a certain amount of credit to these 'sources' for dropping necessary bread crumbs for the masses). Yeah. That 'order.'"

So, what does any of this have to do with rain? I'm about to tell you, but first I'd like to share one of the first experiences of a truly divine nature I had as an adult. I'll try to make it quick:

I'm in the shower; seventeen years old. I am washing my hair and thinking about randomly ornate life-garnishments, as I so often did (and still do). Without any warning at all, my thoughts change, sans direction from me, the thinker...

I see what is meant to be an image of god, I think. I see and feel this energy of love and more love...absolute love made in the absence of any conditioning. Then, I see/feel the happy notion to expand this Love. The process unfolds before me (though I maintain the knowledge through it all that I am only getting the parts that I am capable of understanding). I comprehend that to truly send out this Love and have it come back with intact consciousness, it would have to be experienced by UNexperiencing it. I see many life forms, and the necessary environments to sustain these life forms manifest as if in the instance of a single thought. I do not, however, see the details of these life forms, except for one: humanity. The trials and tribulations; the grand acts of kindness; the cruelty and degradation; the compassion and wholesome outreach...I see the meaning behind it all. I also see the illusion behind it all; because without the illusion, we would not forget and could not, therefore...remember.

I watch as the matter that seems to make up the solidity of a wall responds to the thought of the one who fully remembers why she is here; I watch the wall dissipate. I understand that this is a world of thought responding to thought, yet it is designed to react at much slower intervals than "god-thought" (of which we all get a taste and reminder through our dreams, when we learn how to dream proficiently). It is designed in this way because until we come back around to full Remembrance, we are thought-vessels without direction and fueled by explosive ambition. If we lived at the speed of thought while still engaged in purposeful ignorance, this environment so carefully imagined for us would erupt with chaotic and soul-piercing shrapnel. I see all of this, and more.

As I emerged out of the vision, I found myself with my arms still raised and my hands engulfed in shampoo suds. Every muscle was still. I could have been standing there a minute, or an hour. But I hardly allowed myself to contemplate the time (since it was an illusion, anyway). I barely washed all the soap out of my hair, turned the water off, wrapped up in a towel, and burst out of the bathroom and into the bedroom I shared with Chad...dripping wet (but that was an illusion, too). Since our room was the hangout at the time and this particular day: no exception, I frantically rushed everyone out of the room. I was flushed. Chad noticed right away and echoed me in asking everyone to leave.

He shut the door behind them. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing." Gasping and groping for words, "I just saw the purpose for this world, and none of it is real..."

eventually, it all comes forward only to melt away.

So, what does any of this have to do with rain? I'm about to tell you, but first I want to explain that between the occurrence in the shower when I was seventeen and MANY spiritual arousals since, much of my time has been devoted to seeking: I read, and I read some more. I write. I listen when my mind is quiet enough to hear. I write some more. And I dream (when insomnia paroles me for a time). My findings, so far, prove that there is more about the Universe than my human mind will ever be able to properly distinguish and supplement; they also prove that leaning on my own instinct is paramount to finding applicable answers about existence. While other people can certainly provide magnetism for my soul's compass, I must take care to stay on my own road(s) lest I get lost in the ravelment of another's journey and cease to perpetuate my own. This is true for everyone, regardless of where in the Great Journey they find themselves.

What does any of this have to do with rain? I'm about to tell you...right now.

By my seeking, I discovered the irrefutable relationship we have with the Elements, whether we are aware of it, or not. How can I possibly make the bold claim that this discovery if irrefutable? Because I have put it to the test, thus turning idea into illusion-shattering reality. And what I am about to say would have definitely made a human BBQ out of me back in the bleak days of witch-hunting...

I have a kinship with the rain. Better stated, I was - at some point - able to remember my kinship with the rain. I cannot say when exactly it happened for the first time, but I can say that it has been happening consistently for a couple of years. In fact, my husband, son, and I have a running joke: when it looks like it is going to rain at a time and place when we wish it not to, I'll say, "Let me talk to my friend, the rain," or they will say, "Talk to your friend, the rain, and see what you can do about this."
I must interject here that as with any relationship, love and respect is essential. If I am driving home from the store, and it begins to pour (I do not drive well in the rain, and neither - it seems - does 99% of the rest of the world), I do not say, "I command you to stop, rain! Stop now! Heed my words!" No. I say, "If there is not a bigger and more important purpose to your activity, please give me peace on this drive by ceasing until I am home."

Now...listen up, because this important: the words are not enough. The Connection lies in the authenticity and intensity of the Remembrance. I truly feel the rain to be of kinship. I honor all that it provides for the earth and its inhabitants. When it begins to drizzle, I look to the rain and smile warmly with love and respect. I receive it as a gift, as a friend, as part of the Holy Family.

Rain/water is elemental, and in this human form...so are we. Why would we not be connected?

yes, but while i have a definite connection with the ocean (u have no idea how much i LONG to be seaside these days) I would never claim to be at a point in my evolution to know how and when to impliment syncroncity in its funtionality. that's a few lifetimes away, i think.

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More often than not, I am under the influence of insomnia. Most of the things I am too lazy to write about (til now) come from the disembodied voices that float freely around my bedroom in the very early morning hours. Yep. While the rest of the world sleeps, I am negotiating terms with the trapsing trolls that stomp noisily to and fro across the bridge that connects my conscious mind to the scary depths of the sub-conscious world of dreams and nightmares. Sometimes I am able to out-smart them; sometimes not. Sometimes I get halfway across that damn precarious bridge and stop, just hovering above the chasm of akashic knowledge, waiting to catch the random bits of imprint and cryptic alphabet that might float up to me. Now, with the ambition of a newly inspired blogger, I will try to assemble the randomness, and I may actually write...something.